Sam & I AM

They call me strong, they call me tough,
like carrying scars should be enough.
But strength is just the mask I wear,
a fragile truth, handled with care.

I’ve lived in armor made of steel,
so no one sees the way I feel.
You see my smile, you see my stride,
but not the softness that I hide.

I’m laughter stitched with hidden pain,
a shelter built against the rain.
But no one stopped to really find,
the fragile thread I kept inside.

I don’t want praise for what I’ve gained,
or hollow words that sound the same.
I want a touch that dares to stay,
to hear the things I’m scared to say.

For love that sees beyond the fight,
for hands that hold me through the night.
Not for the strength I’ve had to wear,
but for the woman still waiting there.

What I want is not perfection,
not false affection, nor fleeting fame.
But a gaze that lingers a little longer,
that sees the fire beyond the flame.

Wanting to be discovered,
not for what I have to give.
But for the hidden sacred spaces
where my truest pieces live.

It would take a gentle mind,
someone patient, someone kind.
Who knows the value buried there,
and treats my soul with tender care.

You wanted the part of me,
that looked strong in the light.
Not the troubled soul,
that trembled through the night.

You wanted the roar,
but not the sigh.
You wanted the answer,
but never the why.

Do you know what it took to let you in?
To peel the layers from my skin?
To trust my heart to hands unproved?
To offer the parts I rarely moved?

That was the gift,
and you let it fall.
Like it was nothing.
Nothing at all.

So if you leave, then leave me whole.
Don’t carve your name into my soul.
And if you stay, then stay for real,
see every truth I tried to seal.

And when you see what I contain,
the blood, the tears, the holy pain.
You’ll know the fullness that was there.
The one you forgot to handle with care.